The Night of the Geographical Error
by Tripidydoodah
Summary: Jim and Artie have a problem knowing where they are and can it be that easy to travel from Washington to California. This story cam about because it's easier to move places around than remember where they are. I have removed the original version of this story because my beautiful, amusing and inventive scene dividers did not make it into the previous version. Sorry
1. The President of California

**The Night of the Geographical Error**

Chapter One

 **The President of California**

"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity."

Edgar Allan Poe - American writer, editor, and literary critic (1809-1849)

As soon as Artemus Gordon woke up he knew that something was wrong. He was absolutely certain that he had left his pocket watch on the table next to his bed but, when he reached for it, to find out the time, it wasn't there. In its place was a travel clock, decorated with four diamonds at the quarter hours, and he was pretty sure he didn't own such an item.

Gordon recalled imbibing alcohol quite freely the night before, at a reception for a visiting Middle Eastern Potentate, whose name escaped him for the moment. But, although that accounted for the pounding in his head, it didn't explain the loss of his watch and the acquisition of an obviously valuable clock. Unless, of course, he had been gambling, which he couldn't remember and thought highly unlikely. Realising that this amount of thinking, after the night he had enjoyed, was causing the thumping in his head to worsen, he decided that a nice cup of hot coffee would be very welcome.

He eased himself carefully off the bed, put on his dressing-gown, and made his way to the galley. There, he found that the coffee pot was missing, meaning that his friend and partner, James West, had woken up before him and already made the coffee.

Gordon came across his partner, relaxing on a couch in the varnish carriage, coffee cup in hand, reading a newspaper. He looked up as Gordon came in.

"Morning, Artie," he said. "Coffee's fresh. I guess you'll be needing some after last night."

The first thing Gordon noticed was that West was looking at him over the top of a pair of demi lune glasses.

"What's with the glasses, Jim?" Gordon couldn't help asking.

"You must have drunk more than I realised last night," West responded, "You know I've had to wear these since that fire flash, caused by Captain Coffin, affected my eyes. It's only for reading small print."

Gordon was sure there must be something wrong with his brain and shook his head to try and clear it. No, Jim was still wearing the glasses and now he was giving him a puzzled look.

"I'm sorry, Jim, I just can't take all of this in, first I find my pocket watch has turned into a travelling clock and now this." He waved his hand in his partner's direction.

"Artemus, are you all right?" West asked. "You can't have forgotten that the clock was a present, and a very generous one at that. As for your pocket watch, it's over on the table there, where you always leave it."

Gordon gave in. "I think I'll have that cup of coffee now," he said.

"Good idea, here, let me pour it for you."

Gordon received the cup of hot liquid from him and took a reviving sip. "Aah! That's better. So who was the clock a present from?"

"Don't you remember?"

"Humour me!"

West smiled, "the president of California, himself," he said.

Gordon choked on his coffee. "The what?" he said, between fits of coughing.

"What's wrong with you this morning, Artie? We spent last night attending a reception being held by him. You said you were glad it was taking place in the Californian Embassy because, if it were hosted at the White House, there'd be no chance of a drink."

"I said that? Why would I say that?" Gordon asked, allowing himself to be side-tracked from his original question.

"Because President Hayes doesn't allow alcohol at the White House; well the First Lady doesn't anyway, which amounts to the same thing."

"President Hayes?" Gordon exploded, glad that he didn't have a mouth full of coffee when West had dropped that bombshell.

"Have you lost your memory or something?" West asked, getting up and going over to look at him more closely.

"No, but I'm starting to think I've lost my mind, or you have. When I went to bed last night, I'm pretty sure Ulysses S. Grant was President of the United States."

West's expression became grim. "I think I see what's happened," he said. "The guilt you felt over the president's death has played on your mind and you've wiped out anything bad that's happened; the accident to my eyes, the President's death and goodness knows what else."

That brought Gordon up short. "Is that possible?" he questioned, half to himself.

West rested his hands on his friend's shoulders. "I don't know but it's the only explanation I can come up with" he said. "Maybe you ought to go back to bed and rest for a while. If things don't get back to normal we'd better consult a doctor: this might be the start of a complete mental breakdown."

With those words echoing in his brain, Gordon went back to his room and climbed onto the bed, wrapping his dressing-gown tightly around him. Despite the coffee, he felt sleep wasn't too far away. He prayed that, when he woke up, things would be back to how they had been. The last thing he saw as he rolled over was the travelling clock.

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Back in the varnish car, James West had removed his glasses and was wracking his brains to come up with an answer to his partner's strange behaviour. He didn't want to consider that Artemus was having a nervous breakdown. Sure, he'd been under some strain after Grant's death because, not only had they failed to prevent it but, the perpetrator had worn Gordon's face, thanks to Dr Faustina and her henchman Miklos. He knew too, from something Artemus said afterward, that he had intended to propose marriage to Lily Fortune but he'd had second thoughts, not just because it seemed inappropriate when the whole country was in mourning for President Grant, but also when he realised what danger she'd been in. His doppelganger had actually spoken to her and, with his immense strength, could have easily killed her, had he thought she would delay his mission. He had decided she would be safer without him. If he couldn't protect the president then how could he protect her?

Next, West wondered if the alcohol had been to blame but dismissed that idea. Although he had drunk a large amount, Artemus had been nowhere near inebriated enough for it to have had that sort of effect on his faculties.

He had already dismissed out of hand the notion that Artemus was playing some sort of elaborate joke on him. It just wasn't his style and he hadn't seemed to have been acting. That left hypnotism but he couldn't recall a time when Artemus had left the reception for long enough for that to have occurred. Besides, he had been fine in the cab home. What if it had happened in the night? Surely he would have heard the alarm if anyone had entered the train.

West realised he would just have to cool his heels until Artemus woke up. He had said he would call a doctor, if his friend's apparent loss of memory didn't improve, and he meant it.

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Gordon opened his eyes, first of all wondering what he was doing, lying on his bed when the morning was obviously well-advanced. Then the early part of the morning came back to him. His headache was practically gone but he still had a problem with his memory. He lay there for a long while, thinking things through and one thing kept coming into his mind which would not be denied. Every night, for roughly twenty-five years he had placed his watch beside him when he went to sleep at night. He frankly could not believe that he would have changed that habit. _I'm going to get to the bottom of this_ , he thought.

Having got up, Gordon decided to look his best, if he were going to have to stand his ground. He washed and shaved and dressed in a brown suit and a chocolate-coloured, embroidered waistcoat. He pulled on a pair of gleaming boots and brushed his hair. The last thing he did was put his watch in his pocket and to take a deep breath before he made his way to the varnish car to confront James West.

James West wasn't in the varnish car so, after a moment's thought, Gordon went through to where the horses were stabled. There he found West giving his horse a thorough grooming. Its coat gleamed like jet.

"Hi, Artie!" West greeted him. "You're up late this morning. Drank a bit too much last night, huh?"

"We've already had this conversation," Gordon said, puzzled.

For the first time West took in his partner's clothes. "What are you all dressed up for?" he asked.

"James, will you stop brushing that horse and pay attention to me: this is a very serious matter."

"Of course, Artemus," West said, putting down the brush and looking at him with concern, "what's bothering you?"

"What's bothering me? A few hours ago you were dead set on calling a doctor, or are _you_ forgetting things now?"

"Forgetting things? Look, why don't we make ourselves comfortable and continue this discussion over a cup of coffee?"

"All right," Gordon said, more confused than ever and not happy with the delay in sorting things out.

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Seated opposite each other, in comfort, Gordon continued the conversation that had been started that morning, the first time he got out of bed.

"Jim, I don't think I have blanked out any memories. There must be another explanation because I am perfectly in my right mind when I say that Ulysses S. Grant is the President of the US and we did not go to a reception held by the President of California last night."

"That's good, Artie, because that's exactly what I think, though, strictly speaking, I suppose his title would be El Presidente of California. But that's just nit-picking on my part. Now do you want to tell me what this is all about?"

"Oh I see," he said, his features breaking into a smile, "so it was just some sort of elaborate joke you were playing on me. You had me completely fooled, Jim, especially with those glasses you were wearing."

"Artie, you're not making any sense. When was I wearing glasses?"

"You don't need to keep this up any longer, Jim; you had me fair and square. The expensive-looking travel clock was a nice touch."

"Artemus, I have not been playing a joke on you, elaborate or otherwise, and I haven't seen any travel clock."

"Then I'll show you," Gordon said, marching off to find the clock. But it wasn't there and, now he thought about it, his pocket watch had been in that particular place on the table, when he'd picked it up, before leaving the room earlier. He was in a very thoughtful mood when he returned to the varnish car.

Scratching his head, Gordon admitted, "I'm starting to think I dreamed the whole thing up."

"I hope so," said West, "you were starting to worry me. Now, how about you change your clothes and we take that ride into town we planned."

The day passed quickly: they visited a sports club where West got in a few rounds, in the boxing ring, with one of the members, and Gordon did some work with weights, and then they enjoyed lunch at a steak house. After they'd digested their meal, the two men took in the town, enjoying various amusements and shopping for small items they needed. Eventually, they met up with two ladies of their acquaintance and treated them to some refreshments. Having arranged to squire them to some sort of evening's entertainment and agreed a meeting time and place, the two agents returned to the Wanderer.

"I see a very enjoyable evening ahead," Gordon said, pouring himself a glass of sherry. He waved the decanter in West's direction but his partner shook his head, leaving to change into evening clothes. When he had finished his drink, Gordon followed him.

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The next morning, Gordon awoke with a smile on his face, remembering how well the previous evening had gone. He yawned and stretched and, without stopping for anything else, made his way to the galley. Once again the coffee pot was missing, so he went to the varnish lounge to find James West, sitting as before, cup in one hand and newspaper in the other. As soon as he saw the demi lune glasses, Gordon turned on his heel and went back to his room. He could hear West calling his name as he walked through the door and stared, white-faced, at the travel clock sitting on the table by his bed.

Rejoining his partner, Gordon gratefully accepted the cup of coffee he was offered.

"Why did you rush out like that?" West wanted to know.

"I'll explain but first I want you to answer some questions."

"Alright, fire away."

"What did we do yesterday?"

"Rode into town, visited the sports club, had lunch, spent the evening with Lucy and Emma..."

"Stop there; that's exactly what I remember except the ladies were called Millie and Francine."

"Are you mad?"

"No, I think I've finally worked it out. That travelling clock is the key to the whole thing. Every time I go to sleep with it by my bed I seem to end up in some sort of alternative reality."

"I knew I should have called the doctor yesterday but you seemed so much better after you had that few hours' extra sleep."

"Because that wasn't me, don't you see? Your Artemus Gordon came back after I fell asleep next to the clock."

"I'm finding this very hard to believe but I have to admit that, over the years we have encountered some incredible things."

"I know. Tell me some more about this President of California, the man who gave me the clock."

"Well, strictly speaking, he didn't give you the clock, he gave it to me, but you know how I hate the sound of ticking when I'm trying to sleep."

"So this was aimed at you, not me. Now we're getting somewhere. What's his name?"

"Miguelito Loveless," West said, and was immediately aware of the shock he had given his friend.

"Miguelito Loveless is the President of California? How did that happen?"

"Well, he had a legitimate claim to the land; it had belonged to his mother's family. She was Spanish. He granted certain rights to both the Mexicans and the US and the country's doing pretty well under his rule. He's also a nice guy."

"But why would they just give him all that land?"

"A geologist named Professor Orkney Cadwallader made a report for the government, showing that part of that coastline is unstable and could fall into the sea at any time, so the land is practically valueless."

"I've met that gentleman before; he was using explosives to cause earthquakes. I guess you never had that little adventure."

"No, but I'm guessing from the shock on your face that you've come across President Loveless before."

"Yes, only he isn't president of anywhere, he is an evil, bitter, twisted man whose aims fluctuate between ruling the country and destroying it. Part of the bitterness is because his claim to California was denied. Oh and he's also very keen to dispose of you, because you're the only man to have ever put him in prison."

"But my Miguelito Loveless isn't evil, and I've never done him any harm, so why would he give me the clock?"

"My guess is that my Loveless has used the clock to change places with your Loveless. He's probably having so much fun ruling California that he doesn't want to go back, so he decided to bring my James West here to him but, he miscalculated and, he got me instead."

"I wonder what he'll try and do next," West said.

"I don't know but, whatever it is, it won't be good."

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	2. The Best Laid Plans

Chapter Two

 **The Best Laid Plans**

"The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley"

Robert Burns – Scottish poet and lyricist (1759-1796)

Miguelito Loveless had been in high expectation of at last defeating James West but things had not gone as smoothly as he'd hoped. He had arrived in an alternate reality through a unique discovery and was delighted to find that he was President of California. He had no intention of returning to his other existence but, he still wanted to dispose of James West, however, it had to be the one he had left behind, not the one in the new dimension.

After only a few days, Loveless had arranged the reception at his embassy in Washington and, met up with the alternate James West. President Hayes had been persuaded to sanction the giving of a gift to West, in the shape of a travelling clock, a thing not usually allowed, where members of the Secret Service were concerned, and so the trap was set. However, there was a glitch and that was that his plan to steal the clock back, after the first night, had failed. This meant at least a day had been lost and he would now have to deal with any problems that had been caused by the clock having been in West's hands for so long. It may even be that West had not kept the clock in his room overnight at all. He needed answers to these questions.

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Back at the Wanderer, James West was going over the plan with his new partner, "So you want me to transfer to your reality so that your James West can come here and help you deal with Dr Loveless?" he said

"Yes," Gordon confirmed. "He's the one that actually put Dr Loveless in prison, so it's only fair that he should be the one to go up against him."

"Will your James West agree to this plan?"

"I've been his partner a long time and I know he wouldn't have it any other way."

"When are you going to do it?"

"As soon as possible; there's no time to lose. Do you think you'll be able to go to sleep this time of day?"

"I'll give it a try," West said. "Perhaps a brandy or two will put me in the mood."

"I'd join you, but I'm going to need a clear head right now."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At the time when the alternate West transferred, the alternate Artemus Gordon was arguing that he was perfectly sane and that they'd had to move Washington because the original had been blown up when The Falcon, alias Dr Horace Humphries, had sold his deadly destructive canon to a foreign power before the agents could stop him.

The first thing West noticed was that he was still in the Wanderer but Gordon was changed, for one thing he had stopped arguing insanely and, for another, he was wearing different clothes. In fact, Gordon had quickly dressed in black trousers, white shirt and a smoking jacket while waiting for him to arrive.

"What's going on?" West asked.

"It's alright, James," Gordon reassured him. "It just needs a little explaining, that's all." He hesitated for a moment. "The man you were just talking to wasn't me; he came from another dimension, this dimension." He saw the expression of consternation on his partner's face, as his mouth opened to challenge that statement. "Now don't get all fired up, it's quite simple really."

Gordon proceeded to tell West about his adventures over the past twenty-four hours and how he had worked out who was behind it all.

"So you brought me to this other dimension to deal with Dr Miguelito Loveless." West said.

"I know it sounds ridiculous," Gordon said.

"Don't worry, I believe you."

"You do?"

"I trust you, Artie."

Gordon coughed. "Well, I guess we'd better work on a plan to bring down Dr Loveless. We need to get him back to his own dimension before he can cause any more harm."

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Currently, the deposed President of California found himself inexplicably trapped in a small, mid-western town with no friends and only a small amount of money. The first thing he thought of was to contact his friends Gordon and West. The last time he had seen them was in Washington so he set out, only to find that it was in a different part of the country. Eventually, after much travelling he found the Wanderer and knocked on the door. Gordon opened it.

"Mr Gordon, you and Mr West must help me. I have such an unbelievable story to tell you that you will think I am making it up, but it's true. I woke up several days ago to find myself in a strange town." He was very agitated. "And the geography of the country seems to have changed."

Gordon immediately reassured him. "We know that, we've just been studying the map. But don't worry, President Loveless, the same thing has happened to us. Come in and have a drink and we'll explain what's going on."

When it was explained to him, Dr Loveless took it very well, especially when they reassured him that their counterparts in the other dimension would do their best to get him back home where he belonged. Meanwhile, they decided that the best thing was for him to stay on the train.

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Having put their plan together, Gordon left West on the Wanderer and lost no time in visiting the Californian Embassy for an interview with President Loveless. Loveless was free to see him, just as Gordon had expected he would be, and he was soon ushered into the great man's office.

"Mr Gordon, such a pleasure; what brings you here?"

"First of all, I hope that anything I say to you will be kept between the two of us."

"Of course, Mr Gordon, feel free to tell me anything," Loveless said. "I hope there's nothing wrong with Mr West," he added with an inappropriate smirk.

Gordon pretended he hadn't noticed. "You must be a mind-reader," he said, "I am worried about him."

"He's been a good friend to me, so if there's there anything I can do..."

"As a matter of fact you can. Did you notice anything odd at your reception the other night, especially anything involving James?"

"No, I don't think I did."

"Perhaps you wouldn't mind asking your staff if they saw something."

"Off course, what do you think happened to Mr West?"

"My guess is he's either been drugged or hypnotised," Gordon said. "He seems to have lost touch with reality."

"How very strange, I do hope you can find out what happened."

"Thank you."

"By the way, what did Mr West do with the clock I gave him?"

"It's been on display on a table next to one of the couches. In fact, it was after he fell asleep on that couch after lunch that he woke up without his full faculties."

"Where is it now?"

"Don't worry, we realised how valuable it is and we had already decided to lodge it with the bank. I dropped it off there on my way here," he lied.

"I'm glad it's safe." Gordon could hear the relief in Loveless' voice. "Now I think about it, I know a doctor who specialises in West's sort of problem. Perhaps you could take James to see him."

This was what Gordon and West had been waiting for, Loveless' next move. They would have to play along. As long as he remained in his embassy they couldn't move against him. There was no way they could smuggle the clock in because of the armed guards, who must have been warned to look out for it.

"Thank you very much but I don't think He'll agree to it. You'd be doing me a great favour if you'd come over and see him yourself," he said, planting his hands on the desk.

"I don't know..." Loveless seemed reluctant but Gordon pressed him.

"I'd be very grateful," he said. James has this ridiculous notion that you're some sort of evil mastermind. I'm sure, if you have a word with him, he'll come to his senses."

"Well, I'd hate to think that he had such a mistaken opinion of me so, of course, I'll come to the Wanderer and see my old friend."

Gordon smiled, seemingly with relief. "When can we expect you?"

"I should be free to visit you at about six o'clock this evening."

"Then you must stay for dinner."

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Once Gordon was back on the Wanderer, he and West went through their plan once more.

"As soon as we have Loveless on board I'll use the knock-out gas on him and tie him up," Gordon said, "then we'll use the clock to send him and me back to our reality, where I can arrest him and haul him off to prison. You'll have to give me a whiff of sleeping gas, just so that I can transfer too."

"I'll follow on as soon as I have the Loveless from this reality back to his embassy," West assured his partner. "I should be able to bring the clock through with me, if I keep hold of it. How do you think Loveless managed all of this?" he asked.

"I don't know but my guess is that he won't resist being able to tell me all about it by the time we have him locked up. He's such an egomaniac."

"Yeah, don't you just love him?"

"No."

They both laughed.

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Dr Loveless arrived at the appointed time of six o'clock that evening, with only a driver who remained outside. Their visitor entered the train, with a greeting on his lips, but, before either of them had a chance to formulate a reply, Dr Loveless threw a small glass sphere onto the floor. It broke on contact with the hard surface and acrid smoke filled the carriage. The two agents were overcome almost immediately and crumpled to the floor as Loveless looked down at them, a hastily-donned gas-mask hiding the grin on his face.

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When West and Gordon came out of their artificially induced sleep, they found themselves in a familiar and unwelcome position. They were sitting on a hard wooden floor, shackled to a wall by their wrists, with their legs out in front of them. There was no immediate clue as to their whereabouts but there was a fair chance that they were in the basement of the embassy.

"Yes, gentlemen," Loveless said, "this is the basement of the embassy. I'm sure that you were dying to know. The embassy was built over the cellars of the old house of correction and these wonderfully useful iron rings were left behind."

"Actually, I wasn't interested at all, you see one dungeon you've seen them all," West said. "What about you, Artie?"

"Couldn't care less," Gordon replied. "Can't think why he bothered to explain."

"He's too fond of his own voice."

As Loveless had followed the interchange, his face became progressively stormier.

"If you're going to employ your usual tactic of abusing me, unfairly, I might add; then I shan't bother to explain how I managed to cross into this alternate reality," Loveless said, snottily.

"Oh go on, don't be mean," West wheedled.

"Yes, go on, please, we'd really like to know," Gordon echoed.

"Well, as you seem to be sorry at the shabby way you treated me, I shall tell you," Loveless said, grasping at any excuse to boast about his genius. "I was brilliant enough to realise the amazing property of a unique substance I found while prospecting in the mid-west. And, no, before you ask, I was not looking for gold but rather for unusual minerals and I found one that had never been discovered before. I call it 'miguelitum'. It is so rare that I only ever found two small nuggets. I had the foresight to place them in my pocket overnight and, the next thing I knew, I was here and people were addressing me as President of California, my rightful position, as you will agree."

"So, in other words, it was a sheer fluke," West said.

"Oh was it, Mr West, and was it by sheer fluke I used one of those small chunks of miguelitum to bring you here?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact it was," Gordon interrupted, "because you brought me here instead of Jim. We've been put to a lot of trouble to sort your mistakes out for you."

"I don't know why I only ever receive insolence and insults from you two, especially you, Mr West, who dared to put a genius such as I in prison and has sought to bring to nought all of my schemes."

"If you'd just leave me out of your schemes you'd probably be a lot more successful," West told him.

"Be that as it may, you've both played into my hands this time," Loveless said.

"One thing," Gordon said, "how did you know I wasn't the Artemus Gordon from this reality? How did I betray myself?"

"Simple, Mr Gordon, when I met you at the reception you had the first joint of the little finger of your left hand missing. You said you had lost it while escaping with the scoundrel, John Maxwell Avery, in a railroad truck. It was shot off by one of his men. When you laid your hands on my desk all of your fingers were intact. I assume you are a man and not a lizard and therefore I knew it had to be my old adversary facing me in my office."

Gordon couldn't help looking at his left pinkie, just to assure himself that he hadn't really lost it.

"Of course, you've never met your counterpart have you, Mr Gordon. How remiss it was of you, Mr West, not to have noticed his loss and passed the knowledge on to your friend."

West gave his partner an apologetic shrug.

"As I was about to say," Loveless continued," you will meet your deaths in this realm but no-one in your own reality will know, because you are still alive there, or at least your counterparts are. What a delicious idea."

Just as he was clapping his hands with glee, and smiling like a cat that had swallowed a canary, West wiped a little bit of the satisfaction off his face.

"But no-one will know you've killed us. You won't be able to take the credit for our disappearance if you want to remain as the President of California."

"Hmm," said Loveless as he considered this obvious downside. "On balance, I think it's worth it," he declared. "One can't have everything."

"What are you going to do with us?" Gordon asked.

"I'm not going to tell you, except to say, I have everything worked out, so you needn't worry."

"We'll that's put my mind at ease," Gordon said, "what about you, James, my boy?"

"I'm positively looking forward to it," West replied.

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Once they were on their own, the two agents set about escaping. West removed the lock-pick from his lapel and, dexterously, began to work on the lock of one of his manacles; once opened, he then tackled the other one. When he was free he used the lock-pick to help his partner. As quietly as they could, they stood up and moved toward the door. However, after they had taken no more than a few steps, the floor beneath them gave way, and a hinged trapdoor opened up. In a shocked moment they were thrust into the cold, turbulent water flowing below. The trapdoor closed and they were in virtual darkness as they heard the sound of Loveless' laugh. It took seconds for West to realise there was a vortex beneath them, worked by a fast-turning propeller, at the bottom of a v-shaped hole, and they were being sucked down towards it.

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	3. A Second Bite of the Cherry

Chapter 3

 **A Second Bite of the Cherry**

"He who fights and runs away  
May live to fight another day..."  
Oliver Goldsmith - Anglo-Irish novelist, playwright and poet (1728-1774)

"Quick, turn around and lock arms with me!" West shouted, aware that they were being pulled down to their deaths.

Gordon did so.

"Now brace your feet against the wall of the vortex!"

The two men were now being held in place, back to back, above the spinning propeller their feet wedged against the sides of the V-shaped hole.

"What now?" Gordon shouted back. "I can't hold this position for long."

"Take off your boots!" West instructed him.

Carefully, they loosened their boots one at a time, using the toe of their other foot, and let them fall into the vortex. They blocked the fan, temporarily, as it chewed through the thick leather, and the water calmed down enough, for a sufficient time, for them to swim hard away from the hole. They passed under the building and came ashore a few hundred yards further along. They hauled themselves out, drenched and exhausted and went looking for somewhere to dry off and hide, other than the Wanderer; if Loveless realised they were still alive, that would be the first place he would search.

If this was their own Washington, they would know the addresses of at least a few young ladies who would be willing to shelter them but that would be too risky anyway, as the ladies in question were ignorant of their true vocation and they had no believable explanation for their predicament. Eventually they stopped on a street corner to catch their breath, which is when Gordon came up with a plan.

"Yes, another one, Jim," he said apologetically, aware that the last one had been a bit of a disaster.

"Let's hope this one works," West replied.

"Since we only have the coins in our pockets, why don't you use yours to rent a cheap room in one of the back streets? I'll find some clothing for us, and a few other items, and we'll meet up here in an hour"

It was just over an hour later when Gordon returned. He had with him some dry clothes, boots, and items to help with the disguise he planned to use. The two men went to the room West had rented and Gordon threw a pair of trousers and a shirt on the bed.

"I only had enough money for my disguise, so I stole these clothes, for you, off a washing-line," Gordon explained.

West didn't look too impressed. "Is this the best you could find?" he asked, looking askance at the trousers.

"It's a poor neighbourhood. We'd be here all day if I had to steal something that fitted your self-image."

"That's cruel, Artie."

"But true."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I'd better put these on and acquaint myself with the alien crotch," he said, trying on the trousers. "The shirt's not too bad," he added, holding it up to get a better look at it.

When he was dressed, Gordon handed him a pair of boots. "Try these for size," he invited.

"Pretty good fit," West said, walking about in them. "Where did you get them from?"

"You don't want to know."

West grimaced. He had a horrible feeling that they'd probably come from a body in the local mortuary. It was undoubtedly useful to have a partner with few of the usual qualms that went with civilisation. At the same time he was grateful that Gordon had had the delicacy not to obtain clothing from the same source.

Gordon was busily replacing his own sodden clothes with garb of a Mexican flavour. "How do I look?" he asked, when his outfit was complete.

West looked him over, taking in the tight-hipped, slim-legged trousers, held in place by a wide leather belt, a cotton shirt with faded stripes and a button-less, black waistcoat. The ensemble was topped off with a wide-brimmed, flat-crowned, hat.

"You'll do," West said.

"Wait until I apply the make-up," Gordon replied.

"While you do that, I'll go back to the Wanderer, to pick up the clock and fetch my horse. I'll just have to take the chance the train isn't being watched. I should be able to get back to the embassy in time to follow you."

"All I have to do is make sure Loveless doesn't recognise me," Gordon said, knowing it was going to be easier said than done, as he had met the man many times. "Hopefully, he believes I'm dead and won't be expecting me."

"Well, we'll soon find out."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Dr Loveless had travelled from California to Washington, he had co-opted a couple of thugs to augment the Presidential Guard. They could be relied on to help him carry out his more unscrupulous activities. At that moment they were hanging around in the entrance hall.

"Hey, look, Nicholls," one of them said, "there's a guy headed this way, looks a bit suspicious."

Nicholls looked in the direction Peters was pointing and saw a man, who appeared Mexican. He had a swarthy complexion and a jagged scar marred one side of his face. He was looking around him as nervously as a cat in a kennel. "Looks a bit squirrelly-eyed to me," Nicholls remarked.

The Mexican approached. "Good-day, señors," he said. "I need to see El Presidente, por favor."

"Oh yeah, why's that?"

"That ees between me and heem," the Mexican replied, pulling himself up to his full height. "Eet weel be worth hees while," he said, rubbing his thumb and first two fingers together, indicating that money was involved.

Nicholls and Peters just stared at him.

"El Presidente, he would not be pleased if he knew jou turned away someone who could make heem reech."

The two men looked at each other questioningly.

"Come on, Amigos, let me een; eet ees too dangerous for me to be seen out hjere. Government agents, they look for me."

"Alright, but don't try anything funny."

The Mexican raised his hands to his sides, palms toward them, to indicate that he was harmless.

Peters motioned to him. "Follow me!" he said. At the same time he produced a revolver from inside his jacket and pointed it at him.

Minutes later the Mexican was sitting opposite Miguelito Loveless.

"Well, who are you and what do you want?" Loveless asked. "I'm a busy man."

"Encantado, El Presidente," the Mexican said, "My name, it ees José Luis Pérez and I weel come straight to zee point. I am wanted by secret agents for robbery."

"Why should the Government be looking for a robber like you?" Loveless asked.

"Because I steal from Government, señor: $200,000 in American dollar."

Loveless laughed loudly. "And what do you want from me?" he asked.

"I ask for permission to stay een jour embassy and travel back to Southern California weez jou when jou leave. I can cross Mexico border from zere." He could see that Loveless was wavering. "Eet ees rumoured zat jou are not so incorruptible as jou were. I weel give jou, let us say, twenty-five percent?"

"Very good, Mr Pérez, but I know very well that the amount was $500,000 and the wanted posters claim it was stolen by a crook named Zeke Flanders who, coincidentally, looks a lot like you, right down to the scar on your cheek." It was obvious Loveless was having the time of his life.

"Dammit!" Flanders said, standing up and pacing to the window before turning to demand, "Was it just the scar that gave me away?"

"That and the terrible accent," Loveless told him. "Not to mention the boots and the hat, they're completely wrong. But, I think you should keep up the charade; it will be easier while you are travelling with my entourage. You see what a reasonable man I can be, so reasonable, in fact, I shall only ask for $250,000 from you."

"But that's half! I won't pay it."

"Please yourself but, let's say you try to make it to Mexico on your own, it might happen that someone would inform the Government. In fact, I could send word to them right now and have you arrested where you stand."

Flanders looked at the expression on Loveless' face and remembered the two guards he had met earlier. "Well, far be it from me to turn down such a kind offer," he said.

"Good, where is the money?"

"I've hidden it beside a track outside of town. We can pick it up on our way."

"Very well, as it happens, it is convenient for me to leave for California tomorrow. You shall be my guest for the night and we'll make a start in the morning."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Back in the real world, Gordon and West had received a summons from President Grant. They would prefer to stay and guard President Loveless, until the transfer took place, but no-one could ignore a Presidential command. So they set off for the White House and a meeting with the man they'd thought they'd never see again, while something that looked like a tear appeared in the corner of Gordon's eye.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Flanders had been travelling in the carriage with Loveless for the past hour or so and, since they had reached a track with banks and trees either side, he had begun looking out of the window for a convincing place to stop and 'find' the money. He had no idea if West was following them or not but he would have to take the chance that he was. He was relying on him to bring the necessary means to knock out Loveless and his guards. Suddenly he spotted a small rock formation up ahead.

He put his head out of the window and shouted, "Stop the coach!" Then he turned to Loveless. "The money is hidden among that rocky outcrop just up ahead. I'll go and fetch it and bring it back, alright?"

"No, Mr Flanders, it is not all right," Loveless replied. "Nicholls will go with you. I don't want to take the risk of you having a gun stashed with the money."

Flanders shrugged. "If you insist," he said, knowing this was exactly what he wanted. It would be much easier to deal with the guards once they were separated.

Climbing down from the coach, Flanders took a quick look around. There was no sign of West but that didn't worry him unduly; West was good at trailing people and there was plenty of cover around, in the form of trees and undergrowth.

"This way," Flanders said. Nicholls followed him, a revolver in his hand.

Once they arrived at the rock formation he made a show of digging into the earth a little, with his hands, as he had nothing else to use. The noise of a gunshot came from behind them and Nicholls automatically turned in the direction of the coach. Flanders jumped him from behind and knocked the gun out of his hand. He brought the handle down hard on his head and knocked him out.

Looking up, Flanders saw West running toward him. "Sorry about that, Artie, the driver got off a shot, just as I threw the sleep bomb into the coach," he explained.

"Don't worry, it was just the thing I needed. All I'd come up with as a distraction was throwing a stone."

"Right, let's carry Loveless out into the open air."

West lay down beside Loveless, on the hard ground, and Gordon placed the clock, which West had brought with him, in West's hands. Then he lay down on the other side of him. West had handed over the rest of the sleeping gas to Gordon and they were all set to make the transfer.

"Alright, let's go," West said.

"I'll give you and I a whiff of sleeping gas, just to knock us out for five minutes," Gordon told him, "Loveless will be out for about twenty minutes more. When our alternates arrive here they'll be able to deal with the guards and escort the real President of California back to his home."

"Alright, let's have it."

"Here goes," Gordon said, squirting a puff of red smoke in his partner's face and then his own. "See you on the other side."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mr West! Mr Gordon! MR WEST! MR GORDON!"

West came round, to feel someone gently slapping his face. "Thank goodness!" a voice exclaimed.

"Colonel Richmond?" West said fuzzily. He could hear Gordon groaning in the background and being slapped as well.

"What happened?" the Colonel asked. "I saw you enter the building and then you both just collapsed."

It was at that point that the agents realised they were lying on the floor of the White House lobby.

Gordon tried to stand but fell back down again. West was more successful and was soon standing up, albeit on unsteady legs.

"We have to get back to the Wanderer," West said, realising that they had miscalculated in expecting everyone to have been on the train. They had no idea now where Loveless was but the best place to start was the Wanderer.

Gordon had managed to get to his feet and spoke to Colonel Richmond. "Sorry, Sir, there's no time to explain just now; we'll send you a report later. At the moment we're in the middle of an important case."

The Colonel opened his mouth to say something but West forestalled him. "It really is urgent, Sir," he said, picking up the clock from the floor.

Colonel Richmond nodded. "You'd better get going then – as long as you're all right," he added.

Both men assured him that they were fine, ran to their horses, mounted up, and left.

On their return to the Wanderer, they opened the door with caution but there was no sign of Loveless inside. There was, however, a note on the table.

It bore a simple 'X' and it was signed with 'X X.'.

"Kitten Twitty!" both exclaimed.

Gordon examined it more closely. "I wonder what the period's for," he said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

President Miguelito Loveless was sitting in an armchair in his presidential mansion, his feet up and a little dog on his lap.

"Ah, Doguelito, how wonderful that you were in my arms when I travelled back to my beloved country," he said, "And how lovely of Mr West to have named you, in honour of me."

He began to hum softly and then more loudly, an old Spanish refrain. Then he gently added words to it. His voice was clear and melodious.

"My lovely little Doguelito,

You are warm and oh so sweet-o,

And you make my life complete-o,

My darling little Doguelito."

"I hope Mr West and Mr Gordon don't miss you too much. I can't recompense them but, you know, Doguelito, I will reward _my_ James and Artemus instead. Perhaps I shall give them the travelling Clock I found at the back of my desk drawer. It looks quite valuable. Yes that will be the very thing." He laughed happily.

The End

Readers will have spotted that both sets of our boys now own a clock. How useful.


End file.
